Grin and Bear It, a Woman Scorned, Ranch Economics
and
Three Wishes
Plus painful puns and the "Older Than Dirt" quiz.
Annals of jurisprudence. . . You may want to be sitting down for the finish of this one, sent our way by D. Lirio:
"There was a lawyer from Santa Fe who had a cousin who came from Czechslovakia to visit him. The lawyer took him for a camping trip in the Gila Wilderness to give him a taste of what it was like to 'rough it' in the American west. They were having a wonderful time tramping though the mountains and fishing and taking photos. But after three days they met up with two grizzly bears on the trail, and one of them tore the cousin to pieces and ate him up.
"Desperate and afraid for his life, the lawyer ran until he found a park ranger and told him in a frantic voice what had happened to his cousin. They went back to the site of the horrible attack, and the ranger asked him which one of the bears did it.
"The lawyer said breathlessly that the male had killed his cousin. The ranger proceeded to shoot the female, and then he cut up the bear until he found the remains of the cousin.
"The lawyer, baffled, asked why he had shot the female when he had told him it was the male that did it. The ranger replied, 'Would you believe a lawyer if he told you the check was in the male?'"
You know you live in New Mexico when. . . We're delighted to present another installment of one of our favorite Diary categories, courtesy of Blue Moon:
"You know you live in New Mexico when. . .
"You actually know where the Gadsden Purchase is.
"You lettered in high school in pitching empties out a truck window.
"You've tried American food at least once.
"You think it's important to remember both the pros and cons of cockfighting.
"You once referred to Billy the Kid as 'Guillermo el Chico.'
"Your rush-hour commute mostly involves spewing dust and gravel.
"You think of a rusting heap on blocks as mounted art.
"You've given directions using the local meth houses as landmarks.
"You think of Las Cruces as a 'city.'
"The garden hose is only to wash your truck on Sundays.
"You know a clean restroom is a sign that business is falling off.
"You've stood in line behind five different people with five different cases of beer at five o'clock at the supermarket."
Losing the battle of the sexes. . . This fresh report from the frontlines of the gender wars comes to our mailbox courtesy of RH of Silver, who entitles it, "Don't Mess with Women."
"She spent the first day packing her belongings into boxes, crates and suitcases. On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her things. On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining-room table by candlelight, put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar and a bottle of Chardonnay.
"When she had finished, she went into each and every room and stuffed half-eaten shrimp and shrimp shells dipped in caviar into the hollow ends of all the curtain rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left.
"When the ex-husband returned with his new girlfriend, all was bliss for the first few days. Then, slowly, the house began to smell. They tried everything—cleaning, mopping, airing the place out. Vents were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam-cleaned. Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, requiring the ex-husband and his new girlfriend to move out for a couple of days, and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting. Nothing worked. People stopped coming over to visit. Repairmen refused to work in the house. The maid quit. Finally, they could not take the stench any longer and decided to move.
"A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, they could not find a buyer for their stinky house. Word got out, and eventually even the local Realtors refused to return their calls. Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.
"The ex-wife called the man and asked how things were going. He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely, and said that she missed her old house terribly, and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back.
"Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the smell was, he agreed on a price that was about one-tenth of what the house had been worth—but only if she were to sign the papers that very day. She agreed, and within the next hour his lawyers delivered the paperwork.
"A week later, the man and his girlfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home—including the curtain rods."
Share your own tales of the eternal struggle between guys and gals! Send to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134 or email diary@desertexposure.com.
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Postcards from the edge. . . This response to our call for photos from afar showing readers with their favorite publication (ahem, that would be Desert Exposure) wins the award for the greatest distance from home, hands down. Carol Brandon and Rich (Stretch) Vaitonis write: "The mail is slow arriving down here at McMurdo Station, Antarctica, but it does eventually arrive. That's why our photo shows the January issue of Desert Exposure. We work the summer season (that's October to February down here) in McMurdo, a US National Science Foundation research station. I am the postal clerk, and Rich operates heavy equipment building the ice runway. We'll be home to Silver City and our Wind Canyon house in a couple of weeks, but wanted to send you this photo showing that Desert Exposure travels even to the bottom of the world." Take us with you on your next trip—to the bottom of the world or just to Hoboken—and send home a snapshot of yourself holding "the biggest little paper in the Southwest"! Send it to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, or by email to diary@desertexposure.com. |
Our pets, ourselves. . . As promised, we continue our celebration of feline contributions to contemporary literature with more poetry by cats, shared by Frumpy Fox:
"Most problems can be
ignored. The more difficult
ones can be slept through."Cats can't steal the breath
of children. But if my tail's
pulled again, I'm going to learn how."I don't mind being teased,
any more than you mind
a skin graft or two."So you call this thing
your 'cat carrier.' I call
these my 'blades of death.'"Toy mice, dancing yarn,
meowing sounds. I'm convinced:
You're an idiot."
Annals of law enforcement. . .This presumably true tale of "How to Call the Police When You're Old and Don't Move Fast Anymore" comes our way via Major Grandpa:
"George Phillips of Meridian, Miss., was going up to bed when his wife told him that he'd left the light on in the garden shed, which she could see from the bedroom window. George opened the back door to go turn off the light but saw that there were people in the shed stealing things.
"He phoned the police, who asked, 'Is someone in your house?' He said, 'No.' Then they said that all patrols were busy, and that he should simply lock his door and an officer would be along when available.
"George said, 'OK,' hung up, counted to 30, and phoned the police again: 'Hello, I just called you a few seconds ago because there were people in my shed. Well, you don't have to worry about them now because I've just shot them all.' Then he hung up.
"Within five minutes three police cars, an Armed Response Unit, and an ambulance showed up at the Phillips' residence and caught the burglars red-handed.
"One of the policemen said to George, 'I thought you said that you'd shot them!'
"George said, 'I thought you said there was nobody available!'"
Capital pun-ishment. . .As always whenever we serve up a heaping helping of potentially painful puns, we apologize in advance for what kMcFlea in Hurley is about to inflict upon our readers:
"I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger. Then it hit me.
"Police were called to a daycare, where a three-year-old was resisting a rest.
"Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off? He is all right now.
"The roundest knight at King Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference.
"To write with a broken pencil is pointless.
"When fish are in schools they sometimes take debate.
"A thief who stole a calendar got 12 months.
"A thief fell and broke his leg in wet cement. He became a hardened criminal.
"We'll never run out of math teachers, because they always multiply.
"When the smog lifts in Los Angeles, U C L A.
"The math professor went crazy with the blackboard. He did a number on it.
"The professor discovered that her theory of earthquakes was on shaky ground.
"The dead batteries were given out free of charge.
"If you take a laptop computer for a run you could jog your memory.
"A dentist and a manicurist fought tooth and nail.
"What's the definition of a will? It is a dead giveaway.
"A bicycle cannot stand alone; it is two tired.
"A backward poet writes inverse.
"In a democracy, it is your vote that counts; in feudalism, it's your count that votes."
Go ahead, we can take it! Send your most painful puns to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134, email diary@desertexposure.com.
The good ol' daze. . .You're only as old as you can remember, it seems, and according to this quiz sent our way by Scoggin-in-NM, we're pretty dang long in the tooth:
"Count all the ones that you remember, not the ones you were told about. Scoring at the end.
"1. Blackjack chewing gum
"2. Wax Coke-shaped bottles with colored sugar water
"3. Candy cigarettes
"4. Soda pop machines that dispensed glass bottles
"5. Coffee shops or diners with tableside juke boxes
"6. Home milk delivery in glass bottles with cardboard stoppers
"7. Party lines
"8. Newsreels before the movie
"9. P.F. Flyers
"10. Butch wax
"11. Telephone numbers with a word prefix (OLive-6933)
"12. Peashooters
"13. Howdy Doody
"14. 45 RPM records
"15. S&H Green Stamps
"16 Hi-fi
"17. Metal ice trays with levers
"18. Mimeograph machines
"19. Blue flashbulbs
"20. Packards
"21. Roller-skate keys
"22. Cork popguns
"23. Drive-ins
"24. Studebakers
"25. Wash-tub wringers
"If you remembered 0-5, you're still young. If you remembered 6-10, you are getting older. If you remembered 11-15, don't tell your age. If you remembered 16-25, you're older than dirt!"
Economics 101. . . This lesson in economics in the Land of Enchantment comes to us via BadAss Barb:
"A man owned a small ranch in New Mexico. The New Mexico Wage & Hour Department claimed he was not paying proper wages to his help and sent an agent out to interview him. 'I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them,' demanded the agent.
"'Well,' replied the rancher, 'there's my ranch hand who's been with me for three years. I pay him $600 a week plus free room and board. The cook has been here for 18 months, and I pay her $500 per week plus free room and board. Then there's the half-wit who works about 18 hours every day and does about 90 percent of all the work around here. He makes about $10 per week, pays his own room and board and I buy him a bottle of bourbon every Saturday night.'
"'That's the guy I want to talk to, the half-wit,' said the agent.
"'That would be me,' replied the rancher."
The joke's on us. . . Finally, don't read this one from Ned Ludd if you're easily offended by content of, shall we say, an amorous nature—or if your name is Aladdin:
"A husband took his wife to play her first game of golf. Of course, the wife promptly hacked her first shot right through the window of the biggest house adjacent to the course. The husband cringed and hollered, 'I warned you to be careful! Now we'll have to go up there, find the owner, apologize and see how much your lousy drive is going to cost us.'
"So the couple walked up to the house and knocked on the door. A warm voice said, 'Come on in.' When they opened the door they saw the damage that was done: glass was all over the place and a broken antique bottle was lying on its side near the pieces of window glass. A man reclining on the couch asked, 'Are you the people that broke my window?'
"'Uh, yeah, sir. We're sure sorry about that,' the husband replied.
"'Oh, no apology is necessary. Actually I want to thank you. You see, I'm a genie, and I've been trapped in that bottle for a thousand years. Now that you've released me, I'm allowed to grant three wishes. I'll give you each one wish, but if you don't mind, I'll keep the last one for myself.'
"'Wow, that's great!' the husband said. He pondered a moment and blurted out, 'I'd like a million dollars a year for the rest of my life.'
"'No problem,' said the genie. 'You've got it. It's the least I can do. And I'll guarantee you a long, healthy life! And now you, young lady, what do you want?'
"'I'd like to own a gorgeous home complete with servants in every country in the world,' the wife said.
"'Consider it done,' the genie said. 'And your homes will always be safe from fire, burglary and natural disasters!'
"'And now,' the couple asked in unison, 'what's your wish, genie?'
"'Well, since I've been trapped in that bottle and haven't been with a woman in more than a thousand years, my wish is to have sex with your wife.'
"The husband looked at his wife and said, 'Gee, honey, you know we both now have a fortune, and all those houses. What do you think?'
"She mulled it over for a few moments and said, 'You know, you're right. Considering our good fortune, I guess I wouldn't mind, but what about you, honey?'
"'You know I love you, sweetheart,' said the husband. 'I'd do the same for you!'
"So the genie and the woman went upstairs where they spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying each other. The genie was insatiable. After about three hours of nonstop sex, the genie rolled over and looked directly into her eyes and asked, 'How old are you and your husband?'
"'Why, we're both 35,' she responded breathlessly.
"'No kidding,' the genie said. 'Thirty-five years old and both of you still believe in genies?'"
Send your jokes, puns, heartwarming anecdotes and cosmic ponderings to: Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134, email diary@desertexposure.com. Remember, the best submission each month gets a highly collectible Desert Exposure coffee mug.